


edge of recovery

by were



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Drama, Hogwarts, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Hogwarts, Theo Raeken-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 16:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/were/pseuds/were
Summary: Everything's been smooth sailing for Auror Theo Raeken, until he meets Liam -  a Gryffindor he most certainly never had a miserable crush on - years after Hogwarts, at a Broom Shop, of all places. More than just feelings are rekindled and rediscovered.





	edge of recovery

**Author's Note:**

> a big thank you to my beta, Janna, for having reviewed this with me so many times. also, credits to her for giving me ideas on which ingredients to use in this fic. 
> 
> also a thank you to Feng, for cheering me on, as always. this one's dedicated to you. without you somehow i feel like this would have never taken form.

Little did Theo know he'd meet Liam, two days shy of six years since Theo'd become an Auror, at nothing less than a Broom shop down at Diagon Alley. It was almost unreal. They were face to face, barely an arm's length away, the closest they'd ever been since day one on Hogwarts Express.

"Hi, I've ordered a broom and ‘ve come to pick it up," Theo said steadily, his gaze low. He pretended he didn't know Liam – a measure of precaution – but he couldn't help the rush of blood to his head, the sting of acute reminiscence. Seeing Liam had opened the floodgates to memories Theo'd sealed up and put away for over half a decade.

 

*

 

He found it hard to pinpoint when exactly it had all started.

Maybe it was on day one, Hogwarts Express. Theo had been loitering in its hall, mulling over what his father expected out of him for his third year when Liam, wine red flannel shirt – a good indication to which house he'd turn up in – had brushed roughly against him on his way to his car.

He'd swirled around and looked up at Theo. His eyes were clear and blue, expression apologetic and uncertain, but in a sense, also filled with a sort of inexplicable zeal. He'd then run off, saying nothing but a soft sorry that somehow carried well in the corridor, halting Theo from thinking of much else for the rest of the day.

 

Or maybe it was on the eve of Halloween the year after. Theo had been catching up on Muggles studies, his weakest subject, for the O.W.L.s. at the high windowsill of a hallway. A herd of loud and cheery Gryffindor second years strode by under him, all huddled around Liam, congratulating him over getting the position of Beater.

Liam had looked up from the crowd, a happy-go-lucky expression on his face, like nothing in the world could bring him down, and his gaze locked with Theo's for a split second, almost with a click.

The moonlight cast from the windows lit up half of Liam's face, his skin a gentle glow against mellowed shadows. Theo could remember, quite distinctly, how he had held his breath, exhaled slowly, like time had stopped. It took what felt like centuries before he looked back down at his dreary textbook, sinking his face into his green scarf, feigning disinterest and mild contempt.

 

Or maybe it was later, when Theo had been a prefect, distant and alone, surrounded by insufferable housemates and students who were much more interested in frolicking with the person sat next to them than studying to pass their O.W.L.s.

He had easily rolled his eyes at every single couple he'd seen, mocked them for their lack of tact and charm, laughed at their unsuccessful attempts at glorified teenage romance. But when he saw Liam smiling – somewhere between sweetly and dreamily, the special kind reserved for special people – at a puppy-faced girl called Hayden whom he was holding hands with, Theo could only feel a sort of dejection and hints of jealousy soak into his bones.

 

There were many bits and pieces, minute moments – almost ephemeral, like they barely existed – ones like these that had gradually caught Theo's attention. He'd learned of Liam's name over the crowd when they cheered for the Gryffindor star, soaring through the air pumping his fists, and ever since, never forgotten it, never wanted to.

And Theo never understood why, or how it all came to it.

 

*

 

Liam had grown a lot, since then. He'd always been about a head or so shorter than Theo, but now, though Theo was still taller, Liam had grown to be near his height, and with broader shoulders, he didn't look as small as he used to. His hair was a little longer, flowing to one side in a lazy low-maintenance style. His eyes – now turned slightly downwards, were cloudy but still blue. He sported a light three-day-stubble beard, a softly defined jawline, wore a simple grey cotton sweater under his cloak. It looked good on him.

"Auror Raeken?"

Theo bristled at the sound of his name and realised that Liam was staring right at him, his expression inscrutable. He held a packaged broom with Theo's full name stamped on it, which he promptly proffered to his customer.

"Yes," Theo answered, clearing his throat, taking the broom. He wondered if Liam—

"Theo Raeken, aren't you?"

— recognized his name.

After exhaling slowly and finding the courage to look up at Liam, he cocked his head and said, with as much as courage and confidence he could muster: "the one and only."

Liam nodded, acknowledging something silently that Theo was sure was anything but good.

"You couldn't have forgotten me," Liam said, almost snarkily, which surprised Theo.

He bit his lip, feigning ignorance or innocence, he wasn’t sure which. "I— Hogwarts, right?"

Liam shook his head, placed something back onto the shelves before replying, playfully, "you remember more than that."

 

*

 

It was in Theo's sixth year when he heard of the first Liam incident. He heard about it mostly through the grapevine – it had happened a while ago, hushed up by the Gryffindors and professors, or so it seemed, for as long as they could. There were rumours that the Gryffindor team captain, Scott, had been seriously mauled by Liam. It was unclear why or how – most people suspected they were very likely having a fight over the captain position.

The second incident saw Liam giving a Slytherin fifth year a royal beating on the third floor corridor. Despite the chaos and swarm of students trying to catch a glimpse of the scuffle, Theo had learned that day, that for one, Liam knew how to land punches.

Two, he had no reins on his anger whatsoever. Three, he was a muggleborn who would give more than a piece of his mind if anyone were to even whisper the word mudblood. 

 

Theo would chance a glance over at the Gryffindor table during mealtimes, probably more than once, vaguely curious. Somehow he felt that, though Liam was trying to keep smiling and nodding blankly as Hayden talked, something was troubling him. It showed in his posture, the way his shoulders sank forward, the way he kept his gaze distant, the way he spoke very little and frowned very much.

Liam had been a promising Beater up until then. People had always talked about how he was one of the youngest athletic prodigies, how he was born to take up a position in professional Quidditch. He was meant to be a winner, a champion bathed in spotlight. Everyone thought the recruiters would practically jump him once the time came.

He'd always been stable and coolheaded, played rough but fair, at least from what Theo could tell (he wasn't too obsessed with Quidditch, would only get dragged to watch matches between his own house and Gryffindor), but now Liam's flying seemed off-kilter, his swings less accurate, his plays leaving much to be desired. And he had a temper that he clearly didn’t know how to control.

At times, he would play decently, seeming to have regained a little of his former glory, but he quickly spiralled after a few losses, and constantly initiated fights to the point that he was starting to use up all his warnings and getting a suspension or two now and then. It always surprised Theo whenever he saw Liam come back to Hogwarts though – he couldn't imagine how Liam could get away with it all, how he wasn’t expelled altogether. 

In the last match Theo got to see of him, he'd watched Liam storm off the pitch straight after the Seeker on the opposing team caught the Snitch.

He'd been almost childishly angry, had broken his bat, abandoned his broom on the pitch. The Slytherin mob shouted at him, called him a sore loser, a spineless mudblood with his tail between his legs, other uncreative insults, all that. They kept saying it was his studies bringing him down, that he was too academically handicapped to play Quidditch the proper way. No brains, only brawn.

Sometimes people mentioned his IED, but no one seemed to really buy it. Theo had heard whispers in the library about how Liam must have made it up just to get away with everything.

In any case, Liam quit Quidditch after that match, and Theo couldn't figure out why he had, or what was wrong, what had really sparked Liam's wrath. And whenever he looked at the other Gryffindor Quidditch players, who all kept mum, not even bothering to defend their teammate, he would only frown deeper, shake his head, lose faith in humanity altogether.

 

*

 

Theo shoved his hands into his pockets. It was a breezy night. 

"Well, you were a star Quidditch player,” he said, “though, if you'll allow me to comment, you did turn out quite crummy by the end of my final year."

Liam elbowed Theo in the arm, which made Theo laugh. They were heading towards Three Broomsticks, side by side. Liam had invited him, back at the Broom shop, leaning forward over the counter, a winning smile on his face, and Theo had been too weak to say no.

"I had temperamental problems, so to speak," Liam's low tone conveyed that it was a touchy subject.

"But you loved it, didn't you? Still do," Theo replied, "Quidditch, that is. You're not entirely out of the trade either, selling racing brooms."

"Yeah,” Liam looked at the ground, “I don't know if you'd believe me if I told you this is my first choice career."

"You mean, selling brooms?"

"You're judging me."

"I'm not. And… I'd believe you. I swear."

Liam raised an eyebrow, shaking his head, amused. "I smell a lie."

"A sincere oath, excuse you," Theo retorted, laughing.

 

*

 

Theo was snogging Tracy Stewart, a fellow Slytherin, when he first thought about taking the initiative to talk to Liam. Of all times. It was such an idiotic thought (who was he kidding? He was two years Liam's senior, in a rival house, with absolutely nothing in common, not even a friend) that he had choked on the kiss and ended up pushing Stewart away. 

He apologised half-heartedly, gaze beyond Stewart's shoulder, murmured that he really wasn't interested in her, and that her kisses were too alarmingly wet. She slapped him – he deserved it – and he was left alone in the corridor. He stayed there thinking, what was he doing? Idling around after curfew, risking being caught over nothing but a snog he didn't sign up for, over a sort of belated teenage identity crisis he'd never asked for?

He was a seventh year already, one who'd done nothing and gotten nothing out of his years at Hogwarts.

So he decided that he was going to take matters in his hands, talk to Liam, amongst others.

He took a step towards Stiles and Scott, popular Gryffindor seventh year students like himself, and tried convincing them he wanted to be study buddies, for the upcoming N.E.W.T. examinations. He was much better at DADA and Potions than they were combined, while they were better at Muggle studies and Charms.

At first the pair were fairly sceptical, Theo didn't expect anything less. But after a few weeks and seeing no real motive over why Theo would possibly want to screw them over, Scott had learned to trust him, and slowly but surely, Stiles did too. They got along in a sense, Stiles was all exasperated sarcasm whereas Theo was more cold irony, and though they constantly argued over the most inane and trivial things ever, Scott kept them together, and Theo in a sense, had never had this much _fun_ , or whatever this was, in a long time.

And during that time, Theo had been able to get glimpses of Liam more often. He'd see him across the library, trying to reach for a book that was three shelves above his height. He'd see him at the field, sitting under a tree with sports broom magazines open on his lap, watching others fly in the distance. Theo'd see him walk down the hallway towards what Theo assumed was the Gryffindor Tower. A subdued boy with his prior lion-like confidence gradually fading away, but who still smiled, albeit sadly, at other students – at _Theo_ if he passed him by.

Then one day, while Theo was writing his Potions thesis, Liam had stopped at his table, glanced at all the books sprawled across the library desk, and said, "do you mind?" pointing at the empty seat, and Theo shook his head lightly.

"Potions," Liam murmured, noticing the various recipes and theory textbooks, eyes scanning wearily at the titles. "So _you're_ the one who keeps misplacing them or checking them out. I've been looking for… this one. For _months_." He picked one out of the disorderly pile – it was a copy of _Notes and Essays by the Half-Blooded Prince in Advanced Potion Making_ compiled by D. Malfoy.

"Great source book. I highly recommend it," Theo remarked.

"I'll be stealing this from you when you're not watching, then."

Theo grinned briefly, looked down at his essay. "Well. Go ahead. I'm not watching."

He could _feel_ Liam smile. A hesitant pause, a soft, almost inaudible, touch of fingers going over the texture of a book, the smell of field grass and cedar wood coming off the other's cloak. Theo wondered when he had become so familiar with the smell. But the next thing he knew, Liam was gone, along with the book.

 

*

 

Liam and he stumbled out of the Three Broomsticks, wrestling drunkenly like fools. The first snowflakes of late November were floating in the air, and when one touched Theo's nose as he emerged from under Liam's arm, he looked up at the dark sky and wondered why this felt so familiar, this warmth inside his chest he was sure he'd never had before.

Except, he did. He had it once, maybe, back when he was still with Scott and Stiles.

But it was also different – Liam was everything… everything he'd ever wanted.

And now, the way Liam murmured _hold tight_ into his ear, an endearing grin on his face that Theo just wanted to kiss off, the way he grabbed Theo's hand, firm but gentle, then Apparated them away to Liam's cosy flat, the type with fire cracking in the fireplace and a couch piled with patchy Gryffindor red blankets – it was surreal.

"You're beautiful," Liam said, softly against Theo's neck, as if he weren't sure if he was allowed to say it. His hands were resting on Theo's hips, and Theo wrapped his arms loosely over the other's shoulders. The praise was tacky – overused and overrated, but it made the skin on Theo's nape tingle pleasantly. He'd never been told anything like it.

He closed his eyes, indulged in a shy kiss, the first of the night.

 

He thought over the conversations they had at the pub. He'd never had anything like that – casual comebacks, snarky half-insults, flirty exchanges.

They had been watching a Quidditch game on the projector screen. Theo bet on good old Tornados where Liam had his money on Puddlemere. He had to listen to Liam drone endlessly about how most Tornados fans were all fake because they only started supporting them when Tornados started winning, and then had to endure Liam recounting every single detail of every single Puddlemere match there'd ever been since 1163.

Liam was annoying, granted, but Theo had felt at ease – felt like he was finally catching up on every single drop of bliss he should have felt during his childhood and teenage years.

"You think we would have gotten along, had we properly known each other, back at Hogwarts?" Theo was sure it was the firewhisky speaking, not him. He'd done things in the past that made this question impossible to answer in the positive. Which ultimately meant he only asked this to get himself hurt. He braced for it.

Liam smiled briefly, drank from his butterbeer. "I reckon it's pointless to go back into the past and talk about ifs. For what it's worth, if we got along back then, doesn't necessarily mean we would today. Besides, you know what the muggles say? High school years were the worst."

"They're definitely not wrong," Theo replied dryly.

 

*

 

It had been long enough – this one-sided pining, if Theo cared to admit it to himself, was bordering unhealthy, so he made up his mind to ask his Gryffindor 'friends' about Liam.

But contrary to how Theo expected the conversation to go, Scott's eyes had narrowed apprehensively, and Stiles sat up straight, clearly guarded.

"What's he to you?" Scott had asked, his tone much more grave than what Theo was used to, coming from Scott. It was as if the Gryffindor were baring fangs asking about his own child, protective of his own son. "Why are you asking?"

Theo could remember – they had been on high alert. In fact, they probably were all this time. His efforts to gain their trust had been completely in vain because any mentions of Liam seemed to elicit suspicion by default. Even just a glance in Liam's general direction.

It didn't help that Theo was a Slytherin too. He had been as subtle as blood would be against snow. He felt silly to have assumed that house discrimination was passé, that Gryffindor-Slytherin enmity perished with the war.

Had he known, he wouldn't have ever bothered: he was utterly embarrassed.

 

Theo had his hands up, like he was caught (but for what? His inexplicable, _miserable_ crush on a Gryffindor, two years his junior? With soft eyes and a smile that could melt gold?) Then he said, tried to play it off and keep it cool, "Relax, I was just curious. He was a good beater. Had potential. Didn't think it would be a sensitive topic. Pretend I never asked?"

Scott and Stiles were never the same after that. It was a miscalculation on Theo's part. He was so angry he had almost lost it on spot.

 

He hated that he had gone through pretending to be friends with stupid Gryffindors only to come back empty-handed. In the end, Stiles and Scott didn't trust him, and never will. Moreover, he was never going to get to know Liam, he couldn't even approach him, not with Scott and Stiles watching over like wolves waiting for him to make a misstep again, ready to launch an attack on Theo at the drop of a hat.

So, as revenge, around the end of their last year, Theo brewed a brawl between Stiles and Scott, over stupid misunderstandings and tensions they already had in between them, before he left them for good. He later heard that Scott failed an exam, that Stiles skipped a week of classes, distraught.

As for Liam, Theo had distanced himself, emotionally, stopped looking around for his messy chestnut hair, stopped feeling empty (of all feelings) seeing Liam crying (likely over a breakup with Hayden because the girl was going abroad) stopped thinking about how he wanted to rub Liam's back and tell him it's alright, it'll pass, it always does, things always do.

Stopped thinking of Liam. Period.

 

And that was supposedly how his years at Hogwarts all ended. Fruitless in terms of social life. No friends, no more love interests.

Theo passed his N.E.W.T.s with Os all across, excelling in Potions especially, and getting an E for Muggle studies, which he was proud of. Next he went through the rigorous Auror training programme, officially registered as an Animagus (he had been a natural for it) and ultimately became the competent and prideful Auror his father had always wanted him to be.

Seven years rolled by since he'd last thought about Liam Dunbar, and everything had been smooth sailing, as far as Theo knew.

 

*

 

Their foreheads were pressed together, their noses were bumping, they were just an inch away from kissing, but neither dared to close the distance, not at least for a good minute, only let escape small puffs of restrained and sheepish laughter. Theo wanted to take the step, he did, but he was also scared. He felt like everything was too good to be true, felt like everything would just crumble in the next second, like shards of glass on the floor, ruins at the bottom of a lonesome hill where there once stood a castle.

But he should be braver, for once. He could tell that Liam was hesitating too, something that reminded Theo of the Liam back in Hogwarts, and he wanted to tell him that he shouldn't feel that way, shouldn't have to feel that way. That he should be the proud and boastful Gryffindor he was. 

He pushed Liam backwards to the wall and he, timidly, closed the gap, pressed their mouths together. It was a gentle press, where he took a second to really taste the sparks, feel them like electric current running down to the tip of his fingers. Where he took another second savouring, delicately, something he thought he'd been forbidden to have.

Then Liam broke the kiss, his head falling under Theo's chin. He was catching his breath, as if he had held it underwater for too long. Before Theo could ask about it (was it bad? Did he not want this?) Liam took his lips again, hungry, aggressive, almost animal.

 

*

 

The pub had grown a little quieter after the match was finished. Liam was sat back, relaxing into the tattered vintage armchair.

"So. How's it like, being an Auror?" Liam said, looking up from his butterbeer.

"Decent, prestigious, honourable."

"For you, or your father?"

"Really?" Theo answered, mildly incredulous, taking a sip from his mug.

"I— I've heard… from Stiles— you remember him?"

"I _sometimes_ do."

"Well, he said…"

"I wouldn't trust what that git says."

"Well, he says you studied too hard for your father's sake—"

Theo bit his lip, looked away for a moment, at his drink, at the old fading posters on the walls. "My father's had his shortcomings. Had a very conservative father himself and a muggle fiancée, my mother, who left him after he did everything to try and keep her. I don't suspect anyone would forgive his temper or worldviews ever since, I don't, but he did raise me, and I wouldn't take it kindly if someone were to say something against him," Theo paused, taking another swig of his drink. "You don't look too surprised to hear that I'm a halfblood."

Liam shrugged. "Half-blood Slytherins do exist."

Theo pondered. "Hmm. The Raekens have always been purebloods."

"I don't really care. I'm—"

"Muggleborn, I know."

"A damn proud one."

"I'll take your word," Theo added. "You know, I don't quite care, but I have been amongst Slytherins for seven years of my life. I do react to blood status more than I should. Force of habit. I apologize if—"

"It's fine. No offense taken at all. Not my point though."

"Your point being—"

"Didn't you like Potions or something?"

Theo almost guffawed. "Barely. I wouldn't want to become a potioneer. Bad economy. No one can make a decent galleon unless they trafficked illegal potions."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I have quite a few potion smuggling cases on hand. Can't give you much detail beyond that, but I suppose you get the gist. Some gang's been trafficking unregistered ingredients – and they're young wizards and witches like me and you. Cheers to the next generation of potioneers."

"So… you love your current job, then?"

"Of course," Theo said, carefully. "Strange question. Almost rude if I squint."

Liam sat back. "I just thought— well. You used to really like Potions."

"What makes you think that? If it's because you caught me writing my thesis on it that one time, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I swear to god, I would never touch that thesis ever again, even with a stick—" Theo stopped himself. It felt odd to recall that – and he wasn't sure if Liam would even remember.

Liam frowned evidently. "You still remember that?"

"That you stole my copy of _Notes and Essays by the Half-Blooded Prince in Advanced Potion Making_? I suppose so." If Theo was surprised that Liam remembered that too, it didn’t show.

"That copy was your own?" 

"Yes."

Liam smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "I thought it was the library copy. It was so worn."

Theo nodded. "Well, it’s not a bad book. Enjoyable."

Liam exhaled slowly. "See, I'm telling you, you love Potions. An average student would not have said they enjoyed that book – you’d have to be a Potions fanatic. Besides, Stiles said you were a Potions genius."

Theo laughed. "Did he? Really?"

"He also said he hated you for it."

"Aww. I'm flattered."

There was a pause of silence for a few minutes.

"Now I owe you a book, don't I?" Liam said, smiling goofily, eyes misty. "Maybe I still have it somewhere back at my flat."

 

*

 

Liam didn't owe Theo anything. But Theo just wanted him to, if it meant a promise that they'd see each other again.

 

His hands were roaming along Liam's body, ghosting over his sides, fingers sliding gently into the dip of the small of Liam's back, under his black sweater.

It was maddening. He was so scared to take, but he was so hungry for it. He was being pulled apart by two extremes – one that wanted him to indulge in the moment, grab for what he wanted, mark his name all over Liam, whisper lovingly into his skin. The other wanted him to stop, wanted him to push Liam away, feign disgust, run away.

"Why do you want me?"

Theo wondered if he had said that aloud. If he did, it was a quiet murmur in the heat of their moment, a nothing lost in their entangled bodies. If he didn't, then it was a scream of frustration coming from the deepest parts of his soul.

Liam shushed him, assured him wordlessly he wanted Theo, pressing their crotches together, friction delicious, electric, breath-taking. Theo moaned, and then Liam tasted it, hands coming up to Theo's cheek, teeth bullying Theo's lower lip.

Did Liam want him this desperately too? The way he ground against Theo, and Theo let him, closing his eyes, small pockets of breath and whines escaping him once he rolled his hips to Liam's rhythm. And from there, after a few waves of inexplicable pleasure, something in him snapped. A tether that had kept him at bay all this time had finally been dissolved.

Suddenly it was rough kisses, rash breathing, hands lost in hair or nails digging into thighs, teeth biting on sensitive skins. It was a struggle for power, it was a battle to surrender, a giving in, an opening up.

Theo pushed Liam off and then climbed into his lap. He took off Liam's cloak, sweater, an undershirt. Liam tried undressing him too, but Theo distracted him with deep kisses, angry bruising. He arched himself forwards, his stomach against Liam's chest, his prick hard, straining and weeping against his trousers.

Liam's hair was sexed up already, had to be with the way Theo couldn't help running his fingers through it over and over before his hands smoothed down the other's neck. Theo wondered if he looked too eager, too easy.

Liam was much quieter and subdued, though he had something in his eyes that spoke louder than words. He would look up at Theo, steady flames in his eyes.

Theo wanted to ask about it, wanted it voiced, because as far as he knew this was all just the premise of a one-night stand. But he was afraid to break the silence, the magic, or whatever the hell this was.

 

"You're tense," Liam mumbled, and it surprised Theo from his thoughts he almost flinched. Liam eyed him curiously, "you okay?" He cocked his head to one side, licked his lips slowly, not breaking eye contact. He looked so unfairly delectable Theo had to remind himself he'd been asked a question.

He realised Liam was actively trying to read him. The way Liam seemed to be deep in thought, his guesses running in the reflection of his eyes. Theo burst out in quiet sheepish laughter.

"What's so funny?" Liam whined. Theo pulled Liam into a hug, and they swayed lightly like that. There was a muggle music festival right down the street from Liam's place, and music had started filling the flat, and for a moment or two, like a little timeout for the both of them, they just listened. Music, breathing, heartbeats.

 

*

 

The timeout made Theo think of midnight jogs in the fall.

He used to like trotting around through thick woods in his Animagus form – a coyote – on misty nights. It was exhilarating, liberating. A break from the monotone life he thought he was used to. The shadows below him flying along, trying to break free from the ground, the full moon shining above him like a beacon.

But he'd gotten busier and busier studying for the N.E.W.T.s and seldom had midnight hikes (which, not to mention, broke several dozen school rules anyways), to the point that he stopped altogether, especially nearing the end of his final year.

As an Auror now, he sometimes missed those walks in the woods, the feel of twigs and leaves under his paws, of endless fog in his vision.

 

*

 

Liam's breath ghosted across Theo's abs, and Theo resisted trembling, didn't want to show how much he liked that. Liam noticed it anyway. He was much more observant than he made himself appear to be, so he came back up and kissed the corner of Theo's mouth, licking and sucking on Theo's lower lip, a hand slowly reaching up to Theo's chest, brushing over a nipple, going for the back of his neck, rubbing it as a form of reassurance.

Finally, Liam's hand dropped to Theo's trousers. The zipper was undone, and his fingers lingered a moment at the waistband of Theo's underwear. Theo whined, communicated impatience through body language, groaned and arched his back, pushing his crotch up. Liam tentatively pressed his palm against the clothed bulge.

"Liam," Theo whispered, almost a hiss, his eyes squeezed shut, fingers digging into the other's hips.

Liam ducked down and then mouthed at the mound through Theo's underwear. He moaned into it and then kissed and then nosed the member down its length, inhaling Theo in, his beard catching slightly on the fabric.

"Just take them off, you lazy shit," Theo huffed, one hand loosely finding Liam's beautiful hair, the other trying to take off his trousers. The younger man licked his lips and then yanked the rest of Theo's pants off.

"Beautiful," Liam said as he leaned down again, perhaps intent to kiss the inside of one of Theo's thighs. But he stopped halfway and instead, lifted Theo's right leg over his shoulder and kissed the inside of Theo's knee, making his way down slowly. Theo just stayed still, staring with half-lidded eyes.

Liam hummed to the music outside, through his kisses down to Theo's thigh. Soft rock, hints of cello, a sort of bittersweet melancholy to the lyrics. Mouthed his way down like he had all the time in the world.

 

*

 

Theo was forced to leave in the small hours of the morning. Liam was sound asleep, and Theo felt sorry because he didn't really want to go, not from this, not after he'd gotten what he'd always wanted for years, but his superior requested his presence at an impromptu meeting. He looked wearily for his wand that had dropped somewhere on the floor, and then for his Protean charmed wrist-watch, on which his teammates were communicating what had happened.

Apparently one of his co-workers had caught someone smuggling unregistered crates of highly dangerous substances used as ingredients in an array of potent potions.

Theo left Liam a message, stuck it to the fridge and Disapparated once he stepped out of Liam's flat.

 

When he got to his office, he ruffled his own hair and re-buttoned his shirt because he was one button off. His teammate Josh Diaz walked in as if on cue, levitating files following behind, and quickly filled Theo in about the smuggler.

"She's a woman in her mid-twenties, dark brown eyes, dirty blond hair, around a hundred seventy centimetres tall, seventy kilo, fit. Slightly aggressive and uncooperative, mind you. We've only just identified her as Malia Tate, but couldn't get anything else out of her or about her job, or the ingredients she was transporting. Here's a list of the ingredients by the way. Quite a few are on the Restricted Register. I've circled those in red, and then ones that also need as much attention, in orange."

Theo nodded and scanned the lists and files, eyes narrowing at the dynamic mug shots of the woman. Curiously, her profile indicated that she was a Hogwarts graduate, a year Theo's junior. She was noted to be a hotheaded Gryffindor, got herself into a lot of trouble fulfilling favours from around the school, but Theo couldn't quite remember her despite the fact that she did look vaguely familiar.

"Do you know her?" Diaz asked, mostly offhandedly, as he was busy looking through files himself. "She went to Hogwarts."

Theo frowned. "Probably, but it's been so long, and she was a year younger. I reckon I might have seen her in corridors, but that's it."

"Ah, and I was so sure you'd know her," Diaz said, looking like he'd just lost a casual bet with other co-workers.

Theo eyed him. "What makes you think that?"

Diaz raised an eyebrow, then looked down at the files, fished one out and handed it to Theo.

"Well, her Animagus is a coyote, just like you."

 

It didn't mean anything. The Animagi’s animal form, not unlike their Patronus, were determined by personality – and surely, there were many cat Animagi out there, but that didn't necessarily mean they knew each other. If anything, they probably didn't know each other at all.

But coyotes were rather specific animals, rarer in Animagi, so Theo could understand where Diaz was coming from. Birds of a feather, after all. Especially if they'd been to the same school, and she had been able to turn ever since her sixth year, roughly when Theo was in his seventh.

Theo walked into the interrogation room with his gaze down, redoing his left shirt cuff. When he finally looked up at Tate, he caught her eyes widening for a split second before she turned to look away. She was sporting a leather jacket, ripped jeans with yellow dirt. He seated himself at the other side of the table. The room was a little chilly.

"Cold?" Theo asked, leaning back on the chair.

"Used to it," she said.

Theo chuckled, an arm across his abdomen and a hand coming under his chin. "That's not something I'd imagine a Gryffindor say."

"Your imagination must be lacking."

"I'll have Diaz turn up the heating."

"I'm not saying thanks," she even refused to look at him, it seemed.

Theo shook his head. "Look. Let's get to the point. We caught you with unregistered crates of rare and expensive potion ingredients. Do you have something to say about this?"

Tate looked away. "There's nothing to explain. You just caught me with a box of potion ingredients. Pretty straightforward."

"Whom were you delivering them to?"

"Whomever needed potion ingredients."

"Were you aware that they were unregistered?"

"You'd be surprised at the amount of unregistered shit nowadays."

Theo took out the inventory of ingredients she had been caught with. "You've got a lot of Boomslang skin, Jobberknoll feathers, sloth brain, bicorn horns, aconite root extract. What do you know about them?"

"They're all potion ingredients?"

"They are the main ingredients to potions we are especially wary of. Veritaserum, Polyjuice, Draught of Living Dead, Memory potions, to name a few," Theo clarified. "Now tell me. What do you know about the aconite?" Theo asked.

Tate narrowed her eyes, bit her lower lip momentarily. "Wow. I wasn't aware I was retaking my Potions N.E.W.T.," she leaned forward, "I'm not a potioneer, and I haven't the slightest idea. You're asking the delivery woman about the contents of her packages, Auror Raeken. It's futile."

Theo leaned forward, not buying her analogy. "Well, for one, aconite is commonly used for the Wideye Potion, also known as the Awakening Potion. A simple and easy potion, at that. Only takes eight hours to brew in a copper cauldron. I think they teach it quite early in Potions class, probably third year material, if not second. Any guess to what it's used for? Though I suppose its name is hint enough."

Tate didn't honour Theo with an answer.

Theo continued. "We use it to sober up some of our _guests_ here, especially those with tendencies to consume muggle drugs. Or, we keep some from falling asleep…" Theo paused for good measure, scrutinised Tate for a second as she realised what he was implying. "In small measured doses of course. Just enough to extract the information we require."

"If that's a threat," Tate snarled, "it's barely one."

"There are," Theo started, with a warning tone, "of course, ethical rules to it. But I like to cheat sometimes. And I wouldn't push your luck."

"A Slytherin through and through. The Ministry must be a nest of fools to have admitted you."

Theo narrowed his eyes then looked away. She was straying from the topic – and now he was certain she knew him, after all. He never mentioned his house, never mentioned that he'd gone to Hogwarts. He looked at her again and just smiled.

"Are you familiar with the other names – and by association, usage, of the aconite?" he asked.

She almost bared her fangs, but instead stated, practically growled between gritted teeth. "What part of 'I'm not a potioneer' don't you get?"

"Wolfsbane," he said, placing his elbows firmly onto the table. He studied Tate's reaction. She looked like she made an effort to not flinch at the word. It was enough to go by, spoke thousands of words already – and there was a spark in her eyes that Theo could only say was very _Gryffindor_. He made note of that. Surely Diaz must have noticed and was already digging up the relevant documents.

"Well, that's enough lead for my co-workers and I to have a sniff around. I'll be taking my leave. But before I do, I'm curious – you know me, don't you?"

Tate licked her lips. "You're well-known to Gryffindors of our year." She offered nothing else.

Theo smiled sadly. "I'm flattered."

 

*

 

Liam didn't seem to be too fazed about Theo disappearing on him so early in the morning, which Theo took as a relief. Liam had owled Theo a few days later, asking him if he was free on the weekend. Theo was – he usually was.

They didn't really know where to go or what to do at first, and their owls were getting exasperated at their indecisiveness. Then Theo had the idea of giving Liam a ride in his flying truck. Liam'd mentioned the other night at Three Broomsticks that he'd actually never been in a flying auto vehicle. Theo seldom flew his truck nowadays because it was too conspicuous to fly it around during assignments, and he didn't go out much besides for his assignments. It was a black and old Chevrolet Tahoe SUV missing a bit of shine, but Theo was quite fond of it. It was his mother's, the only thing she had left behind.

"Do you mind me asking what your parents are like?" Theo asked.

Liam shook his head. "Course not," he paused. "Mum's an architect, stepdad's a doctor. They're nice. Smart. Caring. Hmm," he took a moment to contemplate. "I don't… really know how to describe them. They're great?"

"Tell me something you'd do often with them."

Liam smiled, sheepish. "Haha, thinking about 'em makes me feel like I'm a child again. I didn't have many friends as one, my classmates thought I was a walking bad luck charm – that was before Hogwarts – because I didn't really know how to control magic, didn't even really know I was a wizard. So on my birthdays, instead of a party that I had no one to invite to, my parents would prepare TV dinner and we'd watch and rewatch all my favourite historical movies or documentaries."

Theo smiled. "Cute."

"Shut up."

"Do you still do that? On your birthdays? With your parents?"

"Not necessarily on birthdays now, no, but sometimes for old times' sake we'd do it. I'd invite you to our next screening, if you like."

"That'd be nice."

They landed, walked around in the clearing before they sat and lay down on the hood and back of the truck. Their conversation went from Quidditch to muggle music, favourite players to favourite artists. They talked about old times back at Hogwarts, mostly about classes and professors they'd had, though never had together. They were far off memories, embarrassing but wistful in their own ways, at least Liam's sounded like that. He talked about his favourite subjects. One, which surprisingly other than muggle studies and flying, was Charms. He also described how it was like being a star playing on the Quidditch team, talked about how he looked up to his captain Scott. It was a whole change of perspective for Theo – he had always thought that there had been tension between Liam and Scott.

 

Theo wondered if he could ask Liam about Scott and Stiles. It was a hard topic to broach, and he hesitated many times, never could ask. Liam seemed to have noticed Theo's hesitation at some point, and he would rest his head on Theo's shoulder, and for a moment they stayed like that, quiet.

"They've forgiven you, you know," Liam whispered. Theo bit down on his lower lip, gaze distant, thoughts chaotic. Liam was reading him like an open book. He didn't know what to make of it all. Because in so many ways, he shouldn't be able to read him like that. And Scott and Stiles shouldn't have forgiven him. They had no reason to. He'd never even said sorry, and he wasn't entirely sure he would.

It started snowing, making them move back inside the truck. Theo unwrapped his cashmere scarf and offered it to Liam. Liam took it, looked at it for a second before deciding to wind it around both of them. They sat still and pressed their heads together, watching the snow outside.

After a song or two playing through the radio, Liam took Theo's hand and then turned so that his forehead pressed into the side of Theo's face. Theo chuckled and turned so they faced each other, noses bumping lightly. He counted to three, closing his eyes and closing the gap, mouth pressing to Liam's.

Liam's lips were warm, inviting. They made out for what felt like hours, then discarded clothes, ran hands over hot skin, caressed shoulder blades and collar bones. Theo climbed into Liam's lap, let the other grope the insides of thighs, knead his bottom, leave delicate bruises.

 

*

 

The next morning Theo stayed, even if he woke earlier than Liam. They were face-to-face, inches away, their limbs tangled loosely. He slipped off of bed, hissing at the cold surface of the wooden floor, found his wand and wordlessly accio'd his boxers and trousers.

He took the liberty of making coffee, though it was mostly by magic - the grinder levitated and the coffee beans flew into it. 

While Theo waited he studied the books on the shelves and the few decorative items around the room. The books were mostly muggle ones – some of the titles rang a bell, but otherwise Theo didn't know any of them.

There was an antiquated deluminator in one of the display glasses, seemed to have been quite prized, even more than the dusty Quidditch trophy that sat on the shelf next to it. Theo walked to the trophy and gently brushed the soot off Liam's name.

He then walked to Liam's messy desk – piles of unsorted parchment paper, a spilled black ink bottle that was thankfully mostly empty, a half-eaten half-rotten apple, catalogues and magazines of brooms opened, with chaotic notes in the margins, red ribbon bookmarks everywhere. Theo wondered how Liam could get anything done in this apt example of entropy.

Right when he was about to turn back towards the kitchenette, something rolled from the desk and dropped onto the floor. It might have been moved from its resting spot when Theo had tried to take a closer look at the broom catalogues. Theo walked around to pick it up. It was a glass sphere with a golden ring, thin circular designs all over. Inside was a wisp of white smoke, which swiftly turned a mahogany shade of red when his fingers had touched it.

It was a Remembrall. Not a rare object but definitely uncommon nowadays, what with its purpose and usage being quite limited. Definitely a beautiful and mesmerizing artefact though. Theo fiddled and twirled it around, looking at it from several angles, lifting it beyond his eye level. The morning sunrays went through it and shattered into a million colours.

"Seems like I've forgotten something," he told himself. He wasn't entirely sure whether the Remembrall only referenced its owner or the person currently holding it. In any case – everyone was bound to have forgotten something or another. Theo only hoped whatever he'd forgotten wasn't work-related. He carefully placed the object back on the desk, but almost flinched when he noticed Liam standing across the room.

"Morning," Theo said, sounding more surprised than he would have liked. Liam eyed him curiously but quickly relaxed his shoulders and walked over. He wrapped his arms around Theo and rested his head against his shoulder.

"Morning," he said, yawning, stretching his arms out behind Theo.

"Just curious," Theo said, picking up the Remembrall again. "How useful is this?"

Liam grabbed it and moved away from Theo for a second. He tossed it in the air and caught it over-arm. The smoke promptly turned from white to poppy red and back to white. "It's about the size of a golden snitch, fits the palm well. I've this habit of tossing it up and catching it when I'm going through paperwork. Not much use otherwise. It's always red," Liam took a moment to study the circle patterns on it. "I think people used to use this to cheat on their exams, but honestly, how do you even cheat simply by knowing you've forgotten something? And we always forget stuff. In fact, I think it's proven that everyone forgets about ninety percent of what has occurred just a day before."

"Curious invention," Theo remarked, cracking his neck, walking over to the kitchen area. "Coffee?"

 

*

 

Theo was working overtime again at the Ministry. His team was digging wearily through records of aconite sources. Diaz and Bryant talked idly about the Tate case, which had been re-assigned to another more specialized team because of the involvement of Polyjuice and perhaps Oblivation, before they started arguing over the Werewolf Registration Act controversy.

Bryant thought it was a ridiculous attempt at political redemption after Umbridge's Anti-Werewolf legislation – implying that there was no way it could ever be forgiven. Diaz thought that it was better than nothing, safer to report in than to run your whole life from your own identity. Besides, Diaz added, if they got registered, they'd also have a chance at getting insurance for Wolfsbane Potions.

"No werewolf in their right minds would want to report in after they had already been out-ed in the past, and Merlin knows history will repeat itself. What stays alive in the Ministry after decades is not its repentant people but rather its conservative mentality," Bryant practically shouted across the room. "It feels more like a trap than the help."

"Fine, maybe it's not the help – maybe it's just a first step to saying that it's _socially_ okay. The Ministry did have some werewolf heroes."

"Remus J. Lupin," Theo murmured, distracted. "The one and only recognized werewolf hero, so far. Anyways, lads, let's focus on the task at hand and get this job done before the witching hours. I don't know about you guys, but I could really use a good night's sleep as soon as possible."

Both Bryant and Diaz sighed in tacit agreement.

The topic still stuck around in Theo's mind though. Theo thought about the insurance – wondered about how much aconite would be needed to brew enough potions in time for every lunar month, for every registered werewolf – had they any. A werewolf would need to drink quite a lot of the potion every day for the week preceding the full moon, after all. He wondered about the werewolves who would be having a rough time on the next full moon because of the confiscated crates of aconite they had taken from Tate.

Perhaps the Wizarding world needed more antiheroes than heroes, at this point, Theo thought sullenly.

 

*

 

Liam showed Theo his collection of vintage brooms. There was one that was encased at the back of the Broom shop – a Silver Arrow, the true forerunner of racing broomsticks, Liam had explained. They were handmade by Leonard Jewkes, alone, which was the reason why there were only very few in the world, back in the nineteen twenties.

"But as much as Firebolts could easily outrun a Silver Arrow, this babe's still got some speed, and the stem is made with strengthened cedar wood, which has this really nice peachy apricot smell to it – here," Liam took the broom out of its glass case and offered to let Theo smell. Theo leaned down to take a whiff.

"A pity cedar wood is quite heavy and not as easy to get by than most softwoods. I'm not entirely sure what Jewkes was thinking – cedar does limit her speed. She's still a classic though, and still a broom I'd use even nowadays.

"I've also got an Australian Flyabout 50 there, a nineties world-class broom, a Nimbus 1700, which is mostly a piece of junk but not as much as this Shooting Star, known to lose speed and height with time. I've always wondered. Did it get it from the name? You know, some say broomsticks are sentient beings."

Theo watched Liam, the lilt in his voice, the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly, a hint that real passion was being transmitted.

"Can we…," Theo hesitated. Liam looked at him, cocking his head. "Take them out for a ride?"

 

They found a clearing nearby. Liam kicked off on his Silver Arrow, then motioned for Theo to follow suit on the Nimbus 2000.

They rose up and dived around, and Liam charmed his Remembrall that he produced from his pocket, to fly off for them to chase. They never could catch it, it was too bloody cold for them to endure the wind, so instead they tumbled through the air, trying to knock each other off, more playful than anything else.

When they eventually crashed into the soft white grass beneath them, brooms discarded onto the side and them rolling a little downhill, one on top of the other though they couldn't tell who was in fact on top, until they came to a halt, resting at a crook on the side of the hill, snow on their wool cloaks and hair.

They paused a moment, breaths uneven, eyes delving into one another's, before they started kissing hungrily, shoved their hands under each other's clothes, hissed at the cold air that touched their hot skins, but quickly warmed each other up, groping and exploring each other. And then Theo rolled his hips down and rubbed his clothed erection against Liam's thigh, and they both groaned helplessly, giving in to the rhythm that started building up Merlin knew when.

The sounds coming from Liam were filled with a sort of adrenaline that made Theo tremble, curse under his breath. He closed his eyes and they grinded against each other rough and hard, and he couldn't help but mouth Liam's name over and over. They didn't take too long before reaching a high. Liam's lips were pink, formed an O, his head thrown back, his eyes tightly squeezed before letting it all go. Theo captured one of his groans with a kiss, muffled his own whine as he came in his pants.

 

Theo rolled off Liam, mumbled a quick cleaning charm on them when he managed to produce his wand. Liam laughed in gratitude – the Scourgify charm tickling them through their robes. Then they lay there looking up at the darkening sky, tired, but at peace.

 

"You love your work," Theo said, feeling somewhere between admiration and envy. "Must be nice."

Liam licked his lips. Theo sat up a little, propped on his elbows.

"You love yours too, more than you think. More than I thought," Liam answered a little dryly, but he kept his gaze up at the sky even when Theo looked over at him, pensive.

 

*

 

Liam had to go on a business trip for a couple of days, to deliver some brooms, which coincided poorly with the sudden passing of Theo's father.

It was more devastating for Theo than he had imagined. He thought it wouldn't affect him because he had never been that close, but there he was, feeling like he was crumbling from inside out, even though he kept a cold demeanour as he stood at the funeral, reticent, distant, heart likely as cold and still as the one in the coffin.

His father had passed away from leukemia, in his sleep, and didn't leave much of a will, only some unofficial letter stating that his son would inherit "all the rubbish that had piled up in the manor".

Theo hadn't gone back to the house for a while now. It never felt like home, not with its dark gothic style that Theo had always thought was absurd. And his father wasn't the type to celebrate holidays or anything like that, never had friends or family over. Theo never returned for Christmas or Thanksgiving for that reason. But now that he was inside, he realised that it was still a part of him, this sombre and almost hollow house, the rooms trashed with trinkets, old books, and quite honestly, rubbish.

Theo ran his fingers across the shelves, taking careful steps across the sitting room. He then walked around to the staircase and found himself climbing onto the high windowsill that sat above a landing. He looked out into the misty horizon, a view mostly of old pine trees swaying in light wind.

He let a tear roll down a cheek. Not that he was sad or grieving, or at least not necessarily only that – it was also partly because he was having another sort of crisis – a sort of déjà-vu because he felt like he'd had a similar experience at Hogwarts, that night he had pushed Stewart away and gotten slapped across the face.

He was thrown back at square one, or zero, with absolutely nothing again. He hated himself to have not realised that all this time he'd made his father's wishes his only raison-d'être, and now that his father was gone, he felt tremendously empty and broken.

Everything was to naught, and he sat there, feeling like the loneliest man on Earth on the dreariest day the country's ever seen. It made him want to laugh. He did, and he ran his fingers through his hair, rested his head in his hands for a moment or two, and then kicked the wall out of sheer frustration.

That was when something rolled from the corner of the windowsill, which he hadn't noticed.

Strangely, it was a Remembrall. It had a different design than Liam's, different pattern of circles, and it was a little cracked on one side.

"What's with everyone owning a Remembrall?" Theo wondered aloud, peeved, as he picked it up. The smoke inside turned a dark wine red almost immediately. He grimaced at the colour, examined it from all sides, pondered half-heartedly at what he might have forgotten – perhaps the meaning of life, for all he knew. He tossed it up and caught it, the smoke alternating between the colours – and he watched – watched intently as they changed.

Realisation hit him.

 

*

 

Theo almost threw up when he landed in his office. He shouldn't have Apparated into the Ministry while he was an emotional mess, but he was in a hurry, mind-numbing determination overflowing from him like he was being pumped with it nonstop. He stalked to the archive and pulled out books from the shelf labelled under _Obliviation_.

He levitated them to his office, started flipping through them erratically, his hands trembling uncontrollably, the joints in his fingers aching and stiff. A parchment paper slipped out of one the books and he wasn't going to bother picking it up but a pictogram of a spherical object caught his eye. He grabbed the paper with so much force it creased.

It was an incomplete study report. A notice tacked onto it informed that it was a research project that the Ministry had stopped funding since 1992. There were no names on it, they were all blacked out, only a few hypotheses listed in bullet points, and it felt like there had been more papers attached to it before, though they had all been ripped off. The bullet points were enough for Theo though. He pushed back against his chair and exhaled heavily. It had read:

"The Remembrall is suspected to have been invented to indicate whether a user had been Obliviated or not."

"A certain shade past crimson would be a hint that Obliviation was involved."

"The darker the shade, the more serious and long the memory or memories forgotten."

Dark wine red, Theo groaned. The Remembrall had turned dark red when it had been in his hands.

 

*

 

He stayed and worked overtime at the Ministry for several days after the Remembrall discovery. He lied to Liam, reluctantly, saying it was a busy season even though it wasn’t. He couldn’t tell for sure whether Liam bought the lie, but Liam hadn’t questioned it, only eyed Theo curiously for a split second before he hummed a whine and kissed Theo and asked if he wanted to go grab a butterbeer or not. It made Theo’s stomach twist uneasily.

Theo’s co-workers, on the other hand, thought that he was tabulating the cartload of case data they had piled up in the corner of the office since last Halloween. No one wanted to do the dirty work, the intern who was supposed to do it had quit halfway through their contract, which might or might not indicate the copious amount of case dossiers still needing to be input, updated, labeled, sent and sorted into the system.

In any case, Theo was indeed tabulating it, as a cover. He didn’t need to do it fast, given that being fast meant that mistakes would be easily made, so he even had an excuse to be meticulously unhurried.

Whilst all that, the moment his department area was cleared or when he didn’t have to go out catching some poor ignoble miscreant, he gathered research papers on potions, herbology textbooks, reports both closed and abandoned on Obliviation cases, even the infamous G. Lockhart file.

He spent nights studying at the Ministry - he didn’t really want to study back at his own flat because Liam could drop in without warning, and he didn’t want to explain himself, nor the collapsible cauldron that was quite evidently brewing something rather, well, dubious. Besides - he spent more time at work than at home.

Theo had charmed his desk drawer to hold everything he amassed, as well as to rearrange automatically if someone were to walk in and ask him if he’d have so or so file. Instead of a miniature pot that was bubbling, a set of singular vials, scattered sheets of notes burnt with potion stains and the conspicuously old potions book, the drawer would flip over and reveal empty ink bottles, quills, a spare wand, old case files, other banalities one would find at an Auror’s desk.

So far, no one suspected a thing. In fact, Theo almost suspected that he could do this in the open and no one would bat an eyelash.

That said, it had taken him a few days to figure that there wasn’t really any safe or painless method to regain obliviated memories. He spent another couple of days to sulk broodily over it, and then a few more days to get to the point where he was resolute to find ways to amplify the potency of the Memory Potion, in high hopes of regaining a few clues to his lost memories.

And during this time he had been so distracted that he had forgotten momentarily about his father, about the past and future.

 

*

 

A week later, Theo was arriving back at his flat late at night when he found Liam, back facing him, his hands in his hair as if he was about to throw a fit. He turned around at the sound of Theo Apparating, his eyes glistening in the light.

"Hey," Theo asked. “Is something wrong? What are you doing here?”

Liam sighed in frustration. "Well, I keep asking myself the same thing," he took a moment to catch his breath. "I – I had a falling out with Scott. And Stiles. I'm," he clenched his fists, evidently keeping his anger at bay. “I’m a mess,” he said with a hollow laugh.

Theo frowned. "Is it…" Theo wasn't sure if he dared ask. "Is it because you’re seeing m—"

"It's complicated," Liam replied, but he approached Theo and rested his head on his shoulder. "But it doesn't matter," he buried his nose into Theo's neck and breathed, "it doesn't fucking matter. It's not their business."

Theo wrapped his arms around Liam. "They're your friends. Maybe… you should take heed of their warnings." Theo stepped aside to open the door with his wand. “Come on in?”

Liam nodded dejectedly. They stepped in, toed their shoes off, and as Theo levitated their cloaks to the hanger, the door closed itself with a click. He placed his wand on the counter and turned to Liam.

“Butterbeer?” The fridge door opened on its own, and mugs flew out from the cupboard.

“No, I just.”

“They’re warning you for your own good, Liam. There’s no need to be angry at them,” Theo murmured as he walked towards the kitchen. 

Liam didn't let him: he grabbed Theo by the arm, and at first it was just a gentle tug, as if he only wanted to say he really wasn’t in the mood for a drink, but a change of heart flashed in his eyes, and he twirled them around and pinned Theo against a wall. A hand snaked to the small of Theo's back, the other to his nape, and Liam nosed his neck, then let his lips travel across his skin, eyes firmly closed, groans a hint strained, breath uneven. For a few seconds, he seemed to be letting an inner animal take over, taking and cherishing every bit of Theo’s skin that he could find, but the zeal was clearly only a spark, and after a minute, died to an ember. Liam sank forward, exhausted.

When he finally seemed to have calmed down, he buried himself deeper into Theo’s embrace, and, embarrassed, said, "You don't know what you're saying, Theo."

Theo had a good guess, but he kept mum. He ruffled Liam's hair, held him tight, planted a lingering kiss on the other's forehead and started to nose the nook of Liam’s neck, unhurried and gentle. Theo was too worn out to really think anything through, too wired and drained to want to get himself hurt tonight. Right now he wanted to indulge in this, whatever this was, while he could.

Because he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to, soon enough.

 

*

 

Theo was busy collecting various ingredients during the past week. It was ironic that he could find most of the ingredients back at the manor, preserved in glass jars aged with dusty covers and scratchy surfaces. Gingko tree leaves, plums, peppermint, blueberries and rosemary for memory improvement - Jobberknoll feathers (furtively taken from Tate’s crates) powdered moonstone, a small sample of bruise-red Ptolemy to help reveal truth. Theo also brewed a couple of bottles of Wit Sharpening Potion, which he kept at home because it was staple in most households though his was modified with hints of calming draught ingredients, to keep him both focused and relaxed.

Memory potions were far more tricky to brew, let alone an altered one. They could backfire if Theo wasn't careful. He made sure not to consume anything caffeinated or alcoholic - and had a lunar phase monitor at his desk. 

So much as a stir in the wrong direction and it could obliviate him even more, make him forget his own name. But if he succeeded, he might be able to access a few of his missing memories. And if that did go through, he would consider adding armadillo bile and scarab beetles and see if that could make him narrow down the memories to specific ones from a specific time.

While there were many risks, Theo was confident his memories would come back. Perhaps it was only the modified Wit-Sharpening Potion that assured him he could manage it, or its calming properties that made him feel like he could do anything, anything at all. 

He'd never been this adamant on making something happen, and frankly he was sometimes frightened by his drive. After all, he was reinventing a potion, rerouting its purpose. He would pick up a phial and study its silver sheen that bubbled mildly, trembled on its own if put back onto the rack, wondering about how he could be so certain this experiment would bear fruit. 

He was betting all-in. It was everything or nothing.

Because as much as Liam was a blessing Theo didn't deserve but definitely had, Theo couldn't help but feel that if he didn’t figure this out, piece the puzzle back together, then it would all feel like Liam was only a fleeting dream. Just fog waiting to dissipate and reveal that no one was ever there.

 

*

 

Theo couldn't help it if he sometimes wished that he could have Liam all to himself. It was unhealthy the way he never wanted to let go of Liam, wanted to tie him down, bind him, blindfold him, lock him up. And it was horrifying for him when he had these thoughts while Liam was writhing underneath him, head thrown back into the pillow, softly moaning Theo's name over and over like he would a prayer.

Even worse when Theo came because of those thoughts, white spurts drawn across Liam's abdomen, sliding from Liam's chest. But he wanted him, wanted him so bad Theo would give the world to stay like this well beyond the end of time. 

“Sshh,” Liam would hush, as if he could understand Theo’s internal turmoil, his dread for what was to come, from the way Theo’s heart beat under Liam’s touch.

 

*

 

Theo closed his eyes and swallowed the small vial of concoction in one go.

There was nothing, at first.

But just when he was going to go back to his notes, a white light suddenly burst behind his eyelids, hit him like a truck. He got to his knees, crouched forward and resisted the physical urge to curl up on the ground and scream. 

However, before long, everything went dim, and his body went limp, pain and energy leaving him. His vision was then submerged in the soft and familiar yellow candle lighting of Hogwarts corridors. 

Liam was right in front of him, shorter, much younger, his eyes a blue that Theo could only associate with a certain shade of impenetrable innocence.

"You can't tell anyone," Liam said. He looked distraught, yet also distrustful. "Please, you can't—"

"I think I actually _have_ an obligation to turn you in, Dunbar," Theo found himself saying, tone harsh and cold.

"You don't know what it's like—"

"I don't need to. I know that you are dangerous, and that the student body deserves to know. So should their parents."

Liam was breathing hard, but Theo couldn't seem to care less. He spun around to stalk off, intent on heading to the head teacher of Slytherin house, but before he could go far enough, he was rammed into the cold stonewall, sharp pain sheering from his head. And he heard the crack of his skull, felt it like dark frozen ice cracking under weight.

 

*

 

Theo woke up in cold sweat. He was lying on his side and Liam was sleeping on his back, in front of him. Their hands were on top of each other. Theo exhaled unsteadily, took a moment or two to even his breathing, to stop thinking altogether and come back to reality.

Stop thinking of the way he had said he'd turn Liam in so coldly, mercilessly, like he just would even though he had a crush on the boy. He couldn't figure out when it was – there weren't enough hints around them or indications of time except maybe for the lack of crease lines on Liam's face, but it wasn't enough to determine anything. He wondered if it was after Liam had mauled his captain, back in Theo's sixth year. That first incident that must have marked a key turning point in Liam's life.

Theo closed his eyes, and instinctively intertwined his fingers with Liam's and held on tight, tried to lull himself back to sleep, tried to shake off his questions and fears, convince himself they weren't relevant, they weren't real. 

 

*

 

The second memory was a more pleasant one, at least. Theo had the vision when he was at his desk at the Ministry, filling out cartloads full of paperwork. His fingertips tingled, his body had undergone a soft state of shock before he was, almost too literally, tossed back in time.

Liam and he were in a corridor, sat next to each other in a deserted corner, under a window that looked out to drifting snowflakes, hands caught on each other's scarves, sharing what seemed and felt like their first kiss.

It had been softly hungry, violently gentle.

But more importantly, it had felt real.

 

*

 

The memories were out of order, chaotic, excruciatingly painful to go through at times, brief and methodically random. Theo had to take a few Calming Draught, and sometimes Dreamless Sleep to keep sane.

Some of the memories showed Liam and Theo making out on empty fields with a view spread beyond sight. In some others they argued over trivial things like assignments and study plans, or over important matters like trust and friendship - Theo's possessiveness when Liam was too friendly with Hayden, Liam's explosive anger when people spoke badly of Theo, to name a few.

Sometimes they were in their animal forms, waiting under a tree for the rain to pass before padding back to the castle. Sometimes they were figuring out what they wanted to do with the future up ahead, sometimes they talked about brooms and potions, sometimes they didn't talk at all, simply enjoyed each other's presence.

 

*

 

They were in the library, back in the muggle studies section, near the history rows, it was a spot that reoccurred several times across several memory fragments. Liam was sat on the floor, his back against the shelves, a book on his knees. When he saw Theo approach, he frowned.

"You haven't turned me in," he said.

Theo settled down next to Liam, their robes overlapping on top of each other. Liam squirmed uneasily. And Theo replied, rather nonchalantly, "I'm waiting for the right time." 

"What for? It wouldn't make a difference. Can't you just…"

"Gryffindors clearly don't know how to wait for opportunities. Impatient, are we?"

"If it means it doesn't make me a slimy Slytherin, I really don't mind."

"That's blatant discrimination."

"Funny how your standards only apply to everyone that's not you," Liam snapped back.

"You'd rather I disclose your little secret to the world post-haste then? Social suicide much?"

"I'd rather get over it, yes. I've been on edge for days now. Haven't been able to sleep at all 'cause of it. I keep thinking about how everyone'd look at me once they know. I mean. I _am_ dangerous, after all."

"Not when the full moon's just passed. You won't be due before a couple more weeks from now."

"Except I have IED too? And when I care to admit, which is not all the time, wolfish mannerism?" Liam sighed. "I don't get it. Why would you want to wait for my next full moon? Are you thinking to expose me while my alter ego has fun mauling someone? People'll believe you even without an exposé. I'd very much rather skip the exposé."

"Well," Theo started, "I usually believe in the long-term rather than short-term profit."

"Profit?"

Theo sighed. "If I did the honours and disclosed your dirty little secret now, I get very short-lived satisfaction. Everything will just blow away and be forgotten like every other insignificant event I'm going to experience here at Hogwarts. But—" he paused, "if I don't say anything, you'll owe me. A lot. I know Gryffindors tend not to forget whom they owe. And I know I'll need a favour or two in the future."

"Well. I have this gut feeling you'd be dead before your profits ever roll in. Not to mention, I also have this feeling I'd be responsible for it."

"Not if…" Theo took out a piece of parchment with a list of ingredients and notes. "Not if I offer to make you Wolfsbane Potion."

 

*

 

Theo had stolen so many rare and expensive ingredients to keep making potions for Liam. He'd lied to his own housemates, got away from professors by framing someone else in his stead (those unsuspecting students were almost just waiting to be used), manipulated people to smuggle items in for him, charmed a few to stay loyal to him even though he had no intention to befriend them or look at them as anything other than pawns. And one of them was, the one and only, Malia Tate.

She had a schoolgirl’s crush on him, he could remember clearly now. The way she was slowly but surely pulled in because of how Theo used to work her up, rub her the wrong way, teased her to no end.

She was an Animagus, and a Transfiguration genius, the only subject she was good at – and Theo suspected it was mostly for him that she had studied it. Perhaps he had nudged her that way, kept her at the tip of his fingers so she could become useful to him. And she was - could slip out of the castle in her coyote form, and her father was, rather conveniently, in the potion ingredients trade.

Now at his desk, Theo would look at Tate’s mugshots and files, mulling over his interrogation with her, wondering if she would be in this state had he not used her the way he did.

 

*

 

It was natural, what with all the memories rushing back, that Theo was obliged to throw up several times in a week and also go into a daze quite often during the day. Liam was worried, said he wanted to come over to check on him and bring pumpkin juice and chocolate frogs, but Theo avoided him altogether just because the present Liam was starting to blur with the image of a past Liam, and Theo couldn't quite tell apart the chronology of certain things, which in the end, made him even more sick.

One thing that Theo did wonder about was whether the present Liam was keeping secrets from him, all this time. Unless, of course, Liam had also been obliviated. Theo couldn't be sure – he hadn't gotten back any memories nearing the end of his final year, which he reckoned was the time he got obliviated. And he had a feeling those memories wouldn't come back because they were closer to the point of time where he got them erased – the magic might be stronger there and couldn't be undone with a memory recovery potion prototype.

Theo did want to believe that the present Liam wasn't deliberately playing him. Wanted to believe that Liam wasn't waiting to catch him off guard and then abandon him out of spite. Liam didn't have that kind of vengefulness in him, he really didn't seem like he even had a single bad bone in him, but Theo couldn't help feeling wary of Liam nonetheless. 

He'd pushed off telling Liam about his father's death, for instance, unsure if Liam would take advantage of his current state of vulnerability. Not that he believed Liam would – but an old habit, an almost knee-jerk instinct of his, kept making him doubt every single thing, especially every single good thing of his life.

This uncertainty eventually forced Theo to fish out documents from the Ministry archive. He searched for the youngest obliviators of their decade. The one who obliviated him and possibly Liam wasn't necessarily a registered obliviator, granted, but if they were talented enough to be able to perform high-level memory charms back in their days at Hogwarts, chances were they were either a renown obliviator working at the Ministry, or a notorious criminal out in the wild.

 

*

 

Thankfully she was not out in the wild, nor a criminal, saving Theo quite a lot of effort and time. She worked at the Ministry, only a few floors below his office. Youngest obliviator of the decade – a brilliant woman who excelled at just about everything Obliviation and Divination, having predicted major turning points in international politics for both the magic and muggle worlds. She had been an outstanding Ravenclaw back at Hogwarts, same year as Theo, and the probable reason why he couldn't remember her was because she had, evidently, obliviated herself from his memories without leaving so much of a trace. Theo was grudgingly impressed.

When he walked into her office, and she saw him, he could tell that she tried to keep calm, or at least, not surprised when she realised whom he was.

"Obliviator Lydia Martin."

"How can I help you?" Her tone was careful.

"You know what this is about."

She looked down at her desk before giving her door a glance. It closed on its own with a click. She then looked back at Theo. "Hm. What with being clairvoyant, it's decidedly difficult to refute that."

Theo smiled briefly then crossed his arms. "I'll keep this simple then. Did you obliviate me 'bout seven to eight years ago?"

Martin exhaled slowly. She looked like she was having an internal turmoil over what she could answer before she realised there was really no way out. She sighed, stood up and walked around her desk before sitting on it, crossing her arms. "Affirmative."

Theo felt like punching something. He knew he had to be right, but the confirmation gave him a sudden violent urge to gauge someone's eyes out, smash skulls against walls. He resisted it, of course, only let his nails dig into his palm as his fist tightened.

"I'd say you owe me an explanation, but I can't tell, because I can't remember you at all, nor the circumstances surrounding the necessity of obliviating me. I suppose that is the point. Have you always been there? Were you close to Scott and Stiles? Have I done something astoundingly unforgivable to you?" Theo rattled off at her. He was usually good at keeping to one question at a time, but today he couldn't help it. She watched him warily.

"Theo—," she started, then shook her head and amended as Theo narrowed his eyes at her dangerously. "Raeken, look."

Theo looked at the ground instead, out of sheer spite.

"Look, I," Martin started again. She paused. "Yes, I was and still am friends with Scott and Stiles. But I'm sorry, this just isn't really my secret to tell."

Theo uncrossed his arms. "Did you obliviate Liam too?"

Martin shook her head. "No, no. I didn't. He didn't want— Wouldn't let me."

"Wouldn't let you? _I_ wouldn't have let you—"

At that, Martin laughed, throwing her head back.

"Care to enlighten me about what part of lack of consent is humorous to you—"

"Oh, Theo," Martin interrupted. She looked slightly exasperated. "You are the most infuriating Slytherin I'll ever have met. Eight years later and it still applies. Ironic how you think you're so sharp, because I'm surprised it took you eight years to find me. Merlin," she took a deep breath. "If it weren't for—" she stopped herself, as if she was about to reveal something she should be more careful with. She looked up at Theo, scrutinizing him.

"If it weren't for the fact that I actually grew fond of you two," she started again, "I would have never bothered. I mean, who was I kidding? Obliviating people at seventeen? I could have damaged your memories permanently, I could have made you forget who you were—"

"But the deed's done, and you succeeded."

Martin opened her mouth and then closed it. She pondered over whether she should say something or not. She took a deep breath.

" _You_ gave me the confidence," she started, "you led me to believe I could do it. I'm not blaming you – not for this, because I suppose it gave me direction, and it was probably thanks to you that I got this career at all, but I can't… I can't ever seem to understand you – your role – what you've done to us—"

"I led you to obliviate me?"

"Yes."

"Why would I have—"

Martin came up to him in a swift movement and rested her index finger on his lips, looking straight into his eyes, reading into him like he was now a book that she had just been able to open, a book of secrets written in obscure language she'd never been able to decipher. He was entranced almost instantly, unable to move.

Silence grew like tension would when an archer drew their bow and arrow and held their position, waiting for the right moment to release. It was stifling.

"You wanted to keep him safe," she murmured, eyes sad and sorry. "You wanted to keep him safe from you."

 

*

 

If someone had asked Theo whether he could ever love someone, he'd likely answer with a sneer that it was impossible, even if he knew deep down there had always been that one exception.

He'd never really felt anything for _people_ – he'd always been much more focused on work, profits, his father, his unjustified ambitions to climb the social ladder in the Ministry, to secretly gain power for himself and have the world at his hands, the snap of his fingers. People had always been pawns to him, props in a backdrop waiting to be used.

Of course, Liam had always been an exception. He'd never been just a prop, nor a backdrop.

But now Theo was more certain about one thing, and he'd never been this certain about anything in his entire life.

He _loved_ Liam. He loved him almost to a fault.

 

*

 

Now that Theo was seeing the bigger picture, he knew that what he needed the most at the moment, despite it all, was a break. A break from everything he'd ever known, a break from his work, a break from Liam.

He backed away from Martin, barely able to remember how to breathe.

"Does that mean I wanted you to obliviate him too?" he said, voice barely a whisper now.

Martin looked away, breaking the tension rather abruptly. "Only if he wanted to. You wouldn't have forced him. But you would have, for yourself."

"What led me to want you to obliviate— why do you say I'd want to keep him safe from m—"

"Theo. It's not for me to tell. I've already told you too much. I think it's better if Liam told you the rest."

Theo exhaled slowly, brought a fist up to his lips, clenched and unclenched it, and then nodded. "Liam, huh. Was it because I knew he was a—"

"Not here," Martin said. She wordlessly reminded them that they were in the Ministry.

"Because I wouldn't have," Theo stated, voice at the verge of breaking. "I swear— I wouldn't have. And I didn't – did I?"

Martin looked at him sadly. "I know. We all know. And yeah. You didn't."

Theo nodded again and waited, but Martin didn't add anything. He made a move to take his leave. "Well, so far he hasn't spoken a word about it. I don't suppose I could just go up to him and say, well Liam, is there a particular reason you've hooked up with me and not bothered to tell me about our very loaded past?"

"Do you think it's easy for Liam to remind you, you who very willingly purged yourself of memories of him, that you were school sweethearts back in teenage hood? Merlin forbid I wouldn't – he's brave enough to have been considering it."

"Considering it? I don't see the problem there at all. What's there really to lose?"

"I almost want to obliviate you right this moment."

"That would break several ethic codes might I remind you."

"It shows how insufferable you are that I'm contemplating to break a few of them. Besides, it's not like you would remember."

"I'm at your mercy then," Theo put his hands up for show, but knew clearly that she was bluffing, even though her wand was within her reach, "but before that, could you tell me – did he… agree to have me obliviated?"

Martin's lips thinned. She shook her head. "Of course not," she answered. "He would have offered the moon and the sun to have stopped me from obliviating you. And for what it's worth, I didn't want to either."

Theo couldn't help the violent tremor that coursed through his body. He gripped the fabric of his robes tightly. "Alright. Well then. Thank you. Martin. Sorry to have… Sorry for everything."

"Lydia. Call me Lydia. You always used to." She made it sound like they used to be friends.

Theo smiled gloomily before turning to the door.

 

*

 

He wasn't going to confront Liam just yet. He wanted to pick something up – something he suspected Liam would still have.

He dropped in at Liam's flat through the window – Liam wasn't home, he said he had some deliveries to do. Theo walked directly to the bookshelves and searched, eyes scanning fast.

Not finding it there, he started looking for it everywhere else. Under the bed, in the bathroom cabinets, in Liam's walk-in closet.

It smelled good – Liam's closet. Smelled like home, grass fields, cedar wood, warm winter evenings next to a fireplace.

He found a Gryffindor scarf, a third year one, and Gryffindor Quidditch gloves. He found an assorted array of lumberjack flannel shirts (which he always thought looked ridiculous but endearing on Liam) and Canadian tuques with hockey team insignias sewn on them. Liam told him he used to love watching hockey – up until he found out about Quidditch.

Underneath the collection of tuques was a box. Theo already had a suspicion that he'd find what he was looking for in it.

And he was right. There was his old copy of _Notes and Essays by the Half-Blooded Prince in Advanced Potion Making_.

He knew Liam would have been too sentimental to throw it away. He flipped through the pages and smiled at the notes – there were a few in his own handwriting, and a few in Liam's intelligible scribbles. He flipped the pages idly, and then fell on one where a photograph had been inserted. It was one of them together, happily wrestling with each other at the grass field. On the other side of the photograph was written a sole word, _sorry_.

It was in his handwriting, he recognized the way he wrote his cursive 's's.

 

"Theo?"

Theo flinched and dropped the book back into the box. He turned around and found Liam standing at the doorway of the walk-in closet, looking flustered, hair tuffs pointing every which way.

"Liam," Theo said. He didn't really want to confront Liam right now.

Liam seemed a little panicked, a little out of breath. He looked like he had rushed back home. Theo suspected Lydia might have warned Liam about his visit at her office. He should have anticipated that and never dropped in in the first place.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Theo, but—"

"Liam. It's okay. I don't actually want to talk about it," Theo admitted. He got up to his feet, dusted his jeans.

"I can explain—"

"I don't want an explanation."

Liam shook his head. "But I want to. I want to—"

"Just stop. I… I honestly just need a break, Liam," Theo shook his head, his words mostly a whisper. He was indeed about to burst. He'd had headaches for a while, a throbbing pain behind his eyes and ears. "I don't think I can take any more."

Liam opened his mouth but closed it again, lost and hurt. Theo made his way out of the closet, not bothering to take the book.

"You didn't take the book—"

"It's yours, " Theo said. "I just wanted to check if you still had it. Thought it might answer a few of my questions. You can throw it away if you want, it's rather a piece of junk."

Liam stepped forward, mild anger slowly swirling into his eyes. "Don't say that."

“Well, to me it's worth nothing now," Theo looked pointedly at the photo, "I mean – that's the point, isn't it?"

"It was your idea—"

"It was the idea from a version of me that no longer exists," Theo snapped.

"That's not—"

"Honestly. Have you ever thought about whether I'd be different now, almost what, eight years later? Whether I'd have changed? What if I don't see you as anything but a casual fuck?"

"You wouldn't drive your casual fucks to the middle of nowhere and try out their vintage brooms."

"But now that I know _you're a werewolf_ ," Theo laughed, watching Liam flinch at the word.

"It changes the whole game,” Theo continued, “How are you so sure I wouldn't just sell you out? I'd get promoted. I'm an Auror, I have obligations and duties too, and I can't just turn a blind eye. We've been searching for unregistered werewolves for years, they're so absurdly hard to find even though we still have plenty of victims mauled every full moon. You're rather dangerous to just have out there running about like the world's your playground. You'd be worth so much— I could just use you to find more werecreatures too, because I'm sure you guys work as some kind of pack. And I'd toss you all into a ditch. I wouldn't even give _you_ a second glance. I'd use yours fears against you. It would be so easy."

Liam was trembling, but Theo couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger. Perhaps something in between, perhaps another emotion altogether. He watched as Liam resisted grabbing for his wand, resisted just hexing Theo six ways from Sunday.

And Theo couldn't deny that he did have an almost overwhelming urge to wrestle Liam to the floor, pin Liam’s wrists above his head with one hand, a-and just _kiss_ him, breathless, and murmur over and over that he didn't mean any of those things. 

But what if he did? Even Theo couldn't tell. Because if it wasn't Liam, he would have surely done it. If it were someone else, even if it were someone whom he'd bedded with, he'd thrown them under the bus without a second glance.

"You said the exact same things before," Liam murmured.

Theo grimaced and turned around. Of course he had. "I guess some things never change."

"It's why I trust you," Liam said, an odd flicker of determination in his eyes. "I don't know why I trust you, I don't know how I could. Everyone keeps telling me that you're not worth the trouble. Malia still has a grudge against you. Stiles will always suspect you. Scott will always think it's best to keep distances. They keep saying some day you might – that some day you _will_ , turn on me. It's not a possibility, it's in your nature."

"It is," Theo said. "You should listen to your friends. How many times must I tell you?"

"But I— I've seen what you've done, and I know what you did, and I know why you did it," Liam exhaled deeply. "And I know you – I know you're only pushing me away because you think you don't deserve anything."

"I think my job is pretty decent, and that I've deserved it."

"Not like that. You don't even _like_ your job, not passionately at least," Liam retorted. "Not this way."

"Not everyone's like you, not everyone can turn their hobbies into jobs," Theo snapped. "And in any case, you rely on others to smuggle ingredients for you. How very honourable! You shouldn't be too proud of yourself."

"You're wrong," Liam stated, gritting his teeth. "I haven't had a Wolfsbane Potions in years now."

"Which makes you bloody insane. And even more hazardous," Theo said, scowling deeply.

"No, you don't get it. Theo," Liam took a deep breath, "I haven't had to ever since you've gotten yourself obliviated because ever since then… Ever since then, I've been— well, I've been so fucking _mad_ at you. Angry that you would even think of leaving me behind … basically choosing a career you weren't in love with, over me. And it hurt _so_ much, watching you have no idea who I am anymore, who I was to you. And you know, that's what you told me too, right before Lydia obliviated you. You told me how your job was going to be more important than me. You told me I wasn't worth remembering.

"But the anger I felt. Somehow… that anger, well, it anchored me, for lack of a better word. At least for a while, anger was what I thought anchored me. I wouldn't lose myself when I turned, so I knew to keep away from people, unleash my anger in isolation without causing collateral damage.

"It took me a year or two. Several years, maybe, maybe after one of my friends got caught by an Auror, to realise that you erased your memories of me because you," Liam paused, "were afraid that you'd be forced to arrest me one day."

Theo was breathing heavily.

"You were also afraid of what your father would think of me. You were afraid he'd make you kill me. Because I am, after all, a mudblood, and a mudblood werewolf too, and you were sure he couldn't stand it."

"Don't use that word…" Theo said, holding his head. He felt like he was going to implode.

"But after all that. All those years. I realised it's not the anger that anchored me. It's…" Liam paused. "It's all this _shit_ we've gone through. It's like…associative memory. It's me thinking about you every single day, every single minute, _second_ of my life, and you… every Wolfsbane potion I've ever drunk, they were all made by you. I can smell the ingredients off of you. I can't help it, even if you've probably never touched those things in a long time.

"And you were always there. You were a coyote, you'd pass time with me at the Shrieking Shack, hours on end, doing absolutely nothing sometimes, just sitting around waiting for the moon to pass.

"It was you. _You_ are my anchor. Not anger, not anything else. And no one can tell me or convince me that I'm wrong. Not even you."

Theo threw his head back then looked at Liam. "Fucking hell."

Liam stepped forward and in a gentle gesture, gathered Theo into his arms. "And I know you want me. I know you do. And you deserve it. You deserve me, and I deserve you. It's really that simple. Or it's just altogether, not a question of merit. You have to stop telling yourself you don't deserve anything – you used to say it all the time. That's a concept you've gotten from your father because the love of his life deserted him when he needed her the most. You've got to see it, Theo. You're not your father, you don't need to mend his life by giving up your own, you don't need to be afraid that his fate will be yours too because it just isn’t."

Theo rested against Liam and he tried to swallow back whatever was trying to rise from his gut. He pushed Liam back a bit, thinking he was about to hurl, and though Liam allowed him, he didn't let go, had a hand on Theo's shoulder.

"Exhale. Exhale first," Liam whispered. "It helps. We have this habit of inhaling first when we panic but if we can reverse it and start by exhaling, there's a chance it'll trigger you to calm down."

Theo chuckled, then choked on his breath. He, of all people, to get a panic attack. Theo squeezed his eyes shut and laughed. "I've got this feeling that I was the one who taught you that."

Liam smiled briefly. "Of course. You ready? Hold your breath."

Theo nodded, held his breath.

 

*

 

Eyes shut he recalled one of the memories that he'd gotten just a few hours before, summoned it like a sorcerer would magic.

 

"Potions," Liam murmured, echoed through the library. "So _you're_ the one who keeps misplacing them or checking them out. I've been looking for… this one. For _months_." He picked a book out of the disorderly pile.

 _Notes and Essays by the Half-Blooded Prince in Advanced Potion Making_. Theo didn't even need to look at the title to know.

"Great source book. I highly recommend it," Theo murmured, despondent.

"I'll be stealing this from you when you're not watching, then."

Theo grinned briefly, then looked down at his parchment. "Well. Go ahead. I'm not watching."

Liam smiled. A playful pause, a soft, almost inaudible, touch of fingers brushing the texture of the cover, slipping into the book, pulling out a photograph.

Theo had peeked up, watching carefully, waiting for the moment of truth.

Liam looked like he was about to say something, but then the word on the backside of the photograph made him stop. He glanced at Theo, caught him watching, but before the Slytherin could do anything, Liam turned around and walked off.

 

*

 

Theo exhaled.

 

*

 

They had already known each other. That library scene – Theo had always thought it was the first time they'd talk. But it wasn't. It was the last time they did.

It was mind blowing. He wondered how much of his memories were fucked up at this point. Lydia did a good job. Theo wanted to be angry at her, even though he clearly knew he was the one who engineered the entire thing. When had he started to plan it? What had triggered it? Did he not feel happy staying with Liam? Perhaps he had been too happy, too scared to lose Liam?

"Theo?"

Theo wanted to give up. He didn't want to know the answers to his questions, and it was starting to feel like he had an infinite amount of them. And every question he couldn't answer only ground his sanity thin.

Maybe it was why he decided he needed a _cleansing_ , so to speak. A hard reset.

"Exhale."

Theo exhaled, but refused to open his eyes.

He could feel Liam embracing him tight. They stumbled a little backwards, and Liam dragged him down onto the couch with him.

Liam started kissing him. They were gentle kisses, just the soft touch of his lips on Theo's skin. Kisses on the forehead, temple, nose, corners of Theo's mouth, cheek, neck, collarbone, behind the ear, then Liam stopped. His fingers were trembling against Theo's arm.

"I'm still angry at you, you know," he whispered harshly. Theo reached hesitantly for Liam's hand. "I shouldn't be the one comforting you, really."

"I'm sorry," Theo said. It sounded more earnest than he had meant. Maybe because it was earnest.

Liam patted Theo's head, rubbed the back of his neck, wordlessly expressing that it was okay.

"I didn't really want or need your apology, you know. It'd come to a point where I thought it wouldn't mean a thing, wouldn't change a thing, that I would still be angry at you for leaving me in the first place. But I wonder – I wonder if you apologizing means that things have changed. That you have changed. For the better."

Theo bit his lower lip. He didn't know.

"Well. All I really want to know now, is whether… is whether you want me," Liam finished. "Just tell me? Please. For me. Any answer. I've always just wanted an answer. Finally put things to an end if necessary. Closure – I've— _we've_ both been through a lot. I want you so bad, but only if you want me back too."

Theo closed his eyes. It was an easy question, and there was really only one answer, but it was so hard to admit it because he was so used to lying about it first.

But then he thought about them, snapshots of their current relationship, snapshots of Liam.

Liam at Three Broomsticks rambling nonstop about Quidditch. Liam shoving Theo off his broom. Liam’s face lighting up when Theo’s truck took off into the air. Liam’s soft kisses to the corner of his mouth the first time Theo bottomed.

And also Liam's Remembrall, a globe of poppy red, the way he flung it into the air and caught it with ease.

Liam's falling out with Scott and Stiles, the way he was determined to stay with Theo at all cost. And then all the questions probing into Theo's job, his passions, talks about interests so that Theo would realise he wasn't living his own life. Liam had been, or at least had been subconsciously, trying to make Theo remember. He'd been trying to tell Theo, all this time, to dig into his past and figure out what was missing, or if anything was missing at all. And now Liam wanted closure, wanted an end to this obsession, this wild chase.

"You're a bastard," Theo said.

Liam eyed him, a touch mystified.

"This is fucked up," Theo added.

"Tell me about it."

Theo rested his forehead against Liam's shoulder. "I think we need to find a better way to communicate stuff. Preferably not by omission."

"Agreed," Liam bumped their noses. "You haven't answered my question."

Theo smiled gently.

"I need—" Liam started, but Theo interrupted him with a kiss.

And against Liam's lips, he murmured, almost soundlessly. _I do. I want you._

 

They fell onto the floor, making out roughly, lips, tongue and teeth. Their hands pulled at robes, groped aggressively through them, squeezing so much that it hurt. Theo pinned Liam to the floor and ripped open Liam's flannel shirt, came down to devour skin and flesh and nipple, feel the form of Liam’s toned arms. He bit, sucked, kissed, bruised.

Liam groaned, didn't really hold back at all, even though he tried to bite down on his lip to stifle the lewd sounds that were escaping him. He threw his head back, exposing his neck, and Theo attacked it mercilessly. Liam let out one of the loudest and most needy whines Theo'd ever heard.

"Should I impertube the door?" Theo asked, amused, while looking for his wand half-heartedly.

Liam laughed, grabbing Theo by the nape and bringing him down closer to him. "Already did."

"Huh," Theo licked his lips thoughtfully.

Theo grabbed Liam by the hips and repositioned them so that he was settled between Liam's thighs. They snogged with their eyes closed for a couple of minutes before Theo dove down and took Liam's pants off, a fist promptly grabbing Liam's prick and pumping him before he leaned over and gave it an experimental lick. Liam growled, and Theo hummed, trying to mix in some wandless and wordless magic even though he was far from being able to do that.

He kissed the inside of Liam's thigh, left bruises and mock constellations across it, traced them gently with his fingers.

 

*

 

"You know, I think I figured out your tell," Liam said.

"Excuse me?"

"Sometimes you ramble – you start coming up with a bunch of examples in a row? Especially when one would have been enough. But when you're concocting some kind of lie, you come up with four or five out of sheer panic."

"I'm pretty sure that's just… panic," Theo said, carefully.

"Well, I mean, even statistically speaking, when you say more things, you're more likely to be lying about one of them somewhere. And you, by nature, don't ramble."

Theo frowned. "Well, rambling is definitely not sexy."

"So whenever you _are_ rambling, especially when you make an effort in making them sound rather hurtful, there's a good chance you are lying."

"I'm not entirely sure that is considered as a tell."

"Go ahead, lie to me, I'll be able to tell."

"Don't get so cocky."

"But you should feel a little threatened! I now know whenever you're lying."

Theo tsk'ed. "I hate you."

"Now you're definitely lying."

Theo smiled briefly. His fingers were in Liam's hair. "I hate you, you piece of shit, and I'd never die for you, I’d leave you for dead."

Liam hesitated, but then smiled back, a tad mischievously. "Same, same."

Theo leaned in, his smile reappearing slowly but surely, looking down at Liam's lips before coming back to his eyes. Liam tried to bite down a smile before pressing their mouths together.

 

*

 

"We'll owl each other?" Liam asked. They were out at the hills, three days later. Liam was levitating on his Firebolt next to Theo. They looked out at the horizon where the sun was rising over mist.

Theo stepped back, winced at the sunlight, looked down and kicked at a pebble. "Only if it's urgent."

"Okay."

"I just need a break," Theo said. "I don't know if—"

"It’s okay. I get it."

"I'm sorry I'm going to make you wait again."

"It's alright. I'm— I'm just glad there's no obliviation involved this time."

Theo nodded. "Yeah, I bet Lydia would appreciate that too." 

They stood still, quiet again, mulling over the past few days - the best days of Theo’s life so far, with just them lazing around, making out, shagging, build new memories together because they had tacitly agreed to leave most of the past in the past.

"By the way, how's… Scott and Stiles?" Theo ventured.

Liam bit his lower lip. "They're okay. We're okay. They understand – you know, like I said, they've forgiven you. They just think that I was hurting myself more than anything else, trying to get back with you."

"They haven't forgiven me. I don't believe that."

"They had something going on, took them forever to admit it, but they figured it out. Came back stronger. They have forgiven you, trust me."

"Except they probably still kind of hate me."

"Well, you did make Stiles's ex a smuggler."

"His ex?"

"Malia."

"Ah." Theo deadpanned.

"But you let her off the hook, didn't you? I've heard she's been released because some Auror pulled some strings."

Theo narrowed his eyes. "Don't make me sound like the hero. She provided some information, we gave her a fair warning and made her pay a hefty fee. Most of which went directly to my pocket." Theo smiled.

"Yeah, you're hardly a hero."

"Agreed."

 

They were under a tree, Theo’s back against one side of the trunk, Liam against another. Their hands, on the grass, were close to touching.

Theo was always a little nervous during quiet moments like these.

The view reminded him of when he was around nine, in the garden behind the manor perhaps, three or so in the afternoon with no sun in sight, contemplating over lonesome trees in the distance, barks almost white from the cold. The silence, only broken occasionally by crows, stretched out uneasily, like when Theo used to step inside the Raeken house and wait for the sound of wood creaking or tap water running, wondering if Father was at home.

He knew that they weren't good memories to recall. He _was_ comfortable with Liam by his side, it felt like an escape from the world, a sanctuary where he could just be at ease and enjoy the other's presence. He was grateful, yet still wary at why he could have this at all. Perhaps it had become a habit of his to doubt everything.  
Or perhaps his imminent departure was already casting a shadow over these moments, and he found himself wondering whether or not he really needed a break.

Because he still had so much to tell Liam, so much to relive with Liam. And he was afraid that the break could mean a real one, one that would make them realise, in the indefinite future, that maybe they weren't meant to be, and that they had to stop living in the past, move on to better places.

Living in the past – that was what Theo had been doing for a while now, wasn't it? In many ways, his father was like a past he never asked for but never realised he was living. And he'd kept living and reliving it, trying to mend his father's life by making the supposed correct choices in his, only realising that they were never correct because they were never his choices to begin with.

But he couldn't bring himself to be angry with his father. He had watched him grow old, watched what time did to him, and it was always rather heartbreaking than infuriating because Theo couldn't help him out of misery, no matter what he did.

And now his father was gone, didn’t even say goodbye.

Theo glanced at Liam, wondered if it was all right if he brought up his father’s passing. He felt like he needed to, sometimes (he had this urge to tell Liam everything, now that things between them were much more clear water than muddy), but he was still unsure, insecure, force of habit because he was never used to opening up to anyone.

But then he thought about these last few days. And then he looked at Liam, with his guard down, simply resting at ease, feeling like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else in the world, and Theo knew - knew that this was the time for him to crumble his walls and surrender. Because now, although there were pieces missing in the puzzle here and there, he could say confidently that he’d trust Liam with his life, his heart, his entire being.

“I should have told you this. A while ago,” Theo said, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Liam turned his head towards Theo. He looked unsuspecting, patient, a hint concerned.

“My…” Theo exhaled, then he looked up, his eyes meeting Liam’s, “My father passed away. About a few weeks ago. Leukemia. Died in his sleep.”

Liam sat up straight, biting his lip, a worried frown growing on his forehead. “I’m … I’m so sorry...”

“It’s… I’m okay, really. I’m sorry I only got to telling you it now.”

“Don’t apologize for that. It’s not an easy thing,” Liam exhaled, “these past weeks have been hectic enough for you.”

“They have,” Theo scratched the back of his neck. “But it’s all resolved now, I suppose. I just need a breather.”

They stayed quiet for a while.

“It’s okay to have loved him, Theo. You know that, right?”

Theo opened his mouth, closed it without saying anything, nodded. The tips of Liam’s fingers touched Theo’s, and warmth passed through them despite the cool air of early spring.

 

 

"So."

"So."

"You'll wait?"

"I won’t," Liam replied light-heartedly.

"Yeah. Don't wait," Theo elbowed him, in good sport, though he meant his words. They were walking downhill when it started drizzling. Liam cast an umbrella charm wordlessly. They got back to the truck without getting too wet.

“I mean it though,” Theo started. “Don’t wait,” he paused, breathing a little unevenly, “Please don’t.”

Liam smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know.” Theo could feel that the other didn’t really dare look at him, but then Liam did, and then he said, earnestly enough to make something in Theo break: "… I'll— I’ll miss you though. I, I can’t help that."

"I… Yeah. I'll … miss you too, Liam," he responded.

 

*

 

Theo resigned, proceeded with packing his belongings up – a Remembrall, a photograph with a now crossed out _sorry_ on its back, a stolen book of Potions he'd taken from the Ministry archive. His desk was turned back to normal, his potion experiments Vanished with a light swish of his wand. 

He looked at his office one last time, knowing he wouldn't miss its black marble brick interior decor, the robot-like wizards with eight to five schedules, the nauseating bird-cage elevators, the paper planes that flitted overhead. Then he took a deep breath and stepped through the floo network, disappeared into green flames.

 

*

 

Two years later, Theo was teaching Potions at Hogwarts. He had travelled around the world after he'd left the Ministry, found out that he really loved Potions after all. He had made progress on the Memory Recovery potion and was writing a lengthy proposal for it, hoping it would grab some attention and get funded.

He didn't really write to Liam much, other than on the latest Christmas, when he had sent him a vintage broom he'd found in Spain because he couldn't resist – it was made of cedar wood, and for a good minute at the antique shop, he just indulged himself in memories of him and Liam flying around out in the hills.

But otherwise Liam didn't write much either. They were keeping their word, more or less, perhaps for the best.

So it did surprise Theo to find, in the Daily Prophet, a moving photograph of Liam on the front-page article. He looked confident though his expression was neutral, looked great in a black suit with a black tie, hair cropped, sharper jawline, handsome with the well-kept three-day stubble he had since Theo last saw him. And the way he ran his fingers through his hair - the way his gaze moved smoothly from the right corner of the photograph right into the camera made Theo smile.

The headlines read, _Unregistered Werewolf Steps Out and Changes The Game_. Liam had come out to the Ministry, contributed information, a full research paper about werewolf anchors and its theories, registered officially as a wizard-werewolf, and given an award-winning speech about werewolf rights. The Ministry of Magic had in exchange, offered him protection and funding for his groundbreaking research.

Theo had put the newspaper down and picked up his coffee, smiling proudly as he looked out the window from his office.

 

Theo should have anticipated it. The keywords in the article were "protection" and "research," and there were only a handful of places that allowed for both, at least here in Britain. Theo was walking down the second floor corridor when he caught the smell of cedar wood. 

He turned around slowly, and found Liam standing a few feet away.

Theo smiled. "Hogwarts. Of course. It's always been a safe house, hasn't it? I should have known."

"Well, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Potter, they've made it so, haven't they? And of course, all the veterans of the war too." 

"The heroes."

Liam smiled. "Yeah."

"You're one too. Congratulations on coming out. It must have taken a lot of courage."

"Thanks. It… wasn't as bad as I thought."

Theo nodded. "Well, I'm really proud of you,” he paused, looked at the ground before looking back up. “Re-welcome to Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, Liam."

"Thanks. I… I'll be, um, the Quidditch coach for the Gryffindors. I hope that it won't make this too awkward for us."

"No, of course not."

"And … I've heard you teach Potions."

"Naturally."

Liam smiled, looking like he was about to say _I told you so_ , making Theo want to both punch and kiss him, though he did neither. They talked their way to the dungeon kitchens, grabbed coffee and headed out in the grass. It was mid-Spring and there were a handful of first year students in the distance, trying out their brooms, running around under the sun. 

There was so much to catch up on, but at first they hesitated to open up, both a little timid from the length of time that had passed since their last conversation, thinking, almost subconsciously, of the last time they had even touched each other. But after a few ice-breaking questions - talk about the weather, world politics, Puddlemere and Tornadoes, the status of their friends and families - they were back to being themselves. Not the proud Gryffindor or ambitious Slytherin, nor the frightened werewolf and the dutiful auror - simply Liam and Theo, as they should be.

They were almost talking over one another, nervously enthusiastic in their own ways. They had so much to tell, so many things that they had wanted to owl each other about but didn’t. So many things in the past years that kept reminding them of times when they were together, no matter joyous or sad. 

And without the weight of the past plaguing them, or a ghost of it lurking in their shadows, they were freer to laugh more wholeheartedly, freer to take it easy, at their own pace, because they now had all the time and space in the world they’d never had before. 

And there weren’t any secrets anymore, not between them, and they could feel it. The slate was finally cleansed. 

 

Liam laughed. "You seem happy."

"Very," Theo affirmed, "But you know, after today, I think I'll never be happier." They started walking down the hall together, side by side.

Liam narrowed his eyes. "And why's that?"

"Because I’ve just met the first love of my life for the third time, and I know the third time's the charm," Theo answered, only to have it followed by a sheepish laugh because that sounded better in his head than out loud. 

Liam practically barked laughter. "Merlin, what has this break done to you? You're a complete sappy Hufflepuff now!"

Theo hid a grin behind the back of his hand before just looking at Liam and shaking his head. "No, Merlin forbid," Theo said, laughing lightly when Liam swung an arm over his shoulder, wrestled playfully, like good old times.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you'll forgive the liberties i've taken with several magical elements in this fic.
> 
> anddd ahhh this was my first thiam fic. thank you so much for having read it!


End file.
